


Liar

by overlydramatic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, Strong Language, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 11:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overlydramatic/pseuds/overlydramatic
Summary: Sam really only wanted Dean, and he hated himself for it.





	Liar

**Author's Note:**

> set during pre-to-post-Stanford Era

Sam was digging a grave. He liked digging because it was a good workout, but you didn’t have to think too hard about what you were doing. Stab, scoop, toss. Repeat. 

 

No thinking at all. 

 

For the past three years, Sam tried to ignore it. For Christ’s sake, he was  _ sick _ . He was  _ messed up _ . No wonder Dad was always disappointed and Dean was always drinking. 

 

Sam was almost sixteen, normal to get these feelings when looking at an attractive person, especially one you loved. 

 

But not if that person also happened to be your protective big brother.

 

“What’s eating you, Sammy?” 

 

Surprised, not expecting Dean to sneak up on him, Sam jumped. “N-nothing,” he stuttered. He glanced at Dean’s expression before turning back to his job. 

 

Dean looked confused, and Sam cursed himself. “Come on, Sam, don't lie to me. Are you sick or something?” 

 

_ Yes.  _ “No, I’m f-fine.”  _ I’m going to Hell. _

 

Dean touched the back if his hand to Sam’s forehead before he could protest and frowned. “You aren't fevered.”  _ I’ll tell you where to put that hand.  _

 

“Yeah, I know. I told you I’m fine.”  _ I am so not fine…  _

 

Dean crossed his arms. “Don't be a bitch, Sam. You look miserable.” 

 

If that wasn't bad enough, Dean took the shovel off of him. “Go get the gasoline and salt. I’ll finish digging, okay?” 

 

On his way to the car, Sam tried his best to clear his head, buried it in his hands and bit down hard on his bottom lip. He tried thinking about the school work he’d done that morning or counting the amount of knives he kept in the trunk of the Impala. Hell, he even started naming the letters of the alphabet.

 

It didn't help. 

 

His lip was bleeding when he got back but Dean didn’t say anything. Dean was good at ignoring things Sam wasn’t ready to talk about. He always had been. 

 

Sam hated it… It just made him the worst brother ever. Why did he have to do this, feel like this, when Dean had never thought such awful things about Sam? He belonged in Hell, just like the vengeful spirit they were digging up. Maybe he needed to visit a therapist. 

 

He shook himself and got back to the job. 

 

-x-

 

The muscles rippled across Dean’s back while he struck the wooden coffin with the shovel, and Sam only stared. It was a hot summer night, so Dean had taken his shirt off the longer he worked, sweat dripping down his spine. He paused, running a hand through his short hair, glancing up at the sky. His skin glistened in the little bit of light provided by the moon, his many scars resembling shadows that didn’t belong, but that were such a part of Dean, Sam wasn’t sure how he’d react if they disappeared one day.

 

Dean was beautiful, Sam wouldn’t deny that. Dean had always been beautiful, light skin and freckles, light hair and such beautiful fucking green eyes, eyes that could read Sam like a book.  _ Except that I'm a fucking pervert… There’s one secret I’ve been able to keep.  _

 

Sam wished he wasn't the freak of the family, but he always had been, courtesy of his six month birthday. He didn't  _ ask  _ for this. He didn't choose to lust after his brother, but here he was, wondering what it would be like to swallow Dean’s--

 

“Salt. Sam?  _ Salt. _ ” 

 

_ Fuck _ . “Sorry.” 

 

“You're really out of it, aren't you?”

 

Sam felt his brother's eyes on him while he poured salt all over the skeletal form and then dumped gasoline over it. He wished Dean was looking at him like he looked at the blonde waitress at the diner during lunch. 

 

He wasn't. 

 

“Sammy, what has gotten into you? Don't even try and say you're fine, because it's obvious that something is up. No bullshit, Sammy.” 

 

Sam frowned at Dean’s stern gaze. The last person who gave him that look (that wasn't Dean) was his principal back in Minnesota a month ago who Sam seduced. He got fucked in the teacher’s lounge and nobody was the wiser. 

 

He wasn't about to try and seduce  _ Dean _ . That would basically be suicide, an idea that didn't sound so bad sometimes. 

 

“I'm just… going through some stuff, Dean… Stuff I can't tell you.” 

 

“Can't  _ tell _ me?” Dean sounded offended, and rightfully so. They  _ never  _ kept secrets from one another--it just didn't happen. “Sammy, you can tell me anything.” 

 

But if Sam told him… how fucking sick and perverted he was, he wouldn't have any family. 

 

“Not this,” he mumbled, dropping a lit match into the grave. “You'll hate me.” 

 

-x-

 

“You're going to have to tell me sometime.” 

 

Dean’s voice was gentle. He hadn't mentioned the elephant in the Impala for two weeks, Sam was hoping he had forgotten, but obviously not. 

 

“Dean, please drop it. I don't even know how to explain it anyway.” 

 

“Sam--

 

“And I'm not losing you because of my problems. I refuse. Family is more important than…” He sighed, turning his face toward the window and the scenery beyond it. 

 

Then the car was pulled over and Dean was looking at him. “I'm never leaving you, Sam. Why are you acting like this? Have I ever done anything to intentionally hurt you? Have I ever tried? Have I ever made you feel like you weren't safe with me?” He sounded devastated, like he'd done something wrong and didn't know what. He was clearly afraid he had hurt Sam somehow. 

 

Sam frowned, because Dean had it all wrong. “Dean, please, it isn't like that… I just… God, it's so twisted, Dean, I  _ know  _ that you could never… I'm just going to hurt you with what you want me to say. Please, can we leave it alone?” 

 

“Come on, Sammy, I can't pretend that you aren't hiding something. Just tell me, I promise things don't have to change.” 

 

“That's the problem, Dean. I want something to change. I want… I want you to see me the way I see you… which will never,  _ ever _ happen. You're a decent human being and an amazing brother. And I'm a perverted sicko.” Sam hung his head, his hands balled up so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

 

“How can you say that?” Dean’s voice, that Sam knew well, tremored a little, even though he was doing his best to hide it.

 

“Because I'm in love with my own brother!” Sam admitted, along with a choked-off sob. By the time he realized there were tears pouring down his cheeks, Dean had already seen them, and Sam was shaking too much from restrained sobbing to move. 

 

Dean was quiet for a long time, Sam lost count of the minutes they sat in silence, not even the radio was playing. Finally, finally, after it started to rain and Sam distracted himself by watching the droplets as if they were tears and the sky felt his pain, his desperation, Dean turned on the ignition and eased back onto the road. 

 

“I’m sorry, Dean. I really tried, I’ve been trying for years to get over… this. I just can’t, not when you’re the only person I’m ever around. I couldn’t get over you like this… And if you want me to get over my feelings, I can’t be with you for… a long time--

 

“Sammy, I’m not losing you. Especially not like that. Just, get some sleep, okay? You need it.” Dean’s voice was soft, but guarded. Whatever he was thinking, he was doing a damn good job of hiding it by keeping any and all strong emotion out of it, because Sam couldn’t figure it out.

 

He sunk down in his seat, feeling even more ashamed at himself by putting this onto his brother, his poor brother, who was hardwired to take care of Sammy and would do anything to make it work, who deserved more than this utterly terrifying situation, uncharted territory, where the monster was the little brother he was meant to take care of. 

 

There was already so much on Dean’s shoulders, he didn’t need this, too. 

 

-x-

 

Consciousness hit Sam like a truck, he was suddenly aware of everything at once, and it nearly drove him to tears. What happened to waking up slowly? 

 

He was tucked under the blankets and there was a decent weight pressed against his back. The room was colder than he expected, but the rumble of an air conditioner was audible in the otherwise silent space. His skin was bare aside from the boxers he wore, and arms were holding him back-to-chest against another person, fingers weaved through his while their hands rested against his chest. 

 

Dean was holding him, something they had stopped when Sam was thirteen, when he suddenly realized his attraction to his brother seemed to change overnight and if Dean was holding him like that every night, he would have discovered the truth a lot sooner. 

 

It made his heart break. Was he corrupting Dean just by being around him? 

 

“Sammy?” Dean’s gruff voice made Sam want to cry. 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“I don’t want to be without you, so if you want me, you can have me,” he said in Sam’s ear. “No questions asked.” 

 

-x-

 

Sam tried to get a straight answer from Dean. Did everything he could think of to coax an honest reply from Dean’s mouth. He couldn’t tell what was up down or sideways, because this was  _ so  _ not like Dean, to act like this, to treat Sam like they were in a  _ relationship. _ It wasn’t Dean. Sam started to wonder if his brother was possessed, but mostly, he was afraid of learning that Dean  _ didn’t  _ share his feelings. 

 

Eventually, his questions faded and he let go of the uncertainty. He was in love with Dean and Dean wasn’t questioning that. So Sam shouldn’t either… right? 

 

Sam learned the truth when he was eighteen, going on nineteen. Dean pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and then sat him down and told him the truth. 

 

“Sammy…, you have always been my whole world… as my little brother.” Alarms started going off in Sam’s head. This was everything he’d been afraid of hearing at the beginning, everything he didn’t want to know. “The truth is, I wasn’t in love with you when we started this, Sam--

 

“Dean--

 

“Sam, hold on--

 

Sam interrupted him by standing up, defense mode on, face blank. “How dare you?” His voice was raspy and menacing, because his heart was broken. 

 

_ I wasn’t in love with you... _

 

_ I am not in love with you. _

 

“I  _ told  _ you I didn’t want your pity at the very beginning, Dean!  _ How dare you!  _ Do you think that was what I wanted?! Gee, thanks!” 

 

“Sam--

 

“You don’t get to say anything else,” Sam commanded, his voice cracking. He was finding it harder and harder to hold back his tears, but--no, he wouldn’t give that to Dean. Dean didn’t get to watch his life fall apart now. “I’m  _ out  _ of here.” 

 

“Sam, come on, you didn’t let me finish--

 

“I got the hint! You don’t have to say anything else Dean! If you didn't feel the same way, you needed to let me go, not fake your way through a relationship for three years like it would be okay in the end!” 

 

Dean was staring at him, his eyes were wet, but this didn’t cross Sam’s mind at the time. 

 

“I already hated myself enough, Jesus, Dean, how dare you…” Sam grabbed his duffel. Their father was gone for the next few days, and wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t let Sam go.

 

Honestly, Sam could probably take him, he was filled with blinding rage and this… this overwhelming  _ betrayal. _

 

In two minutes, he was gone.

 

-x-

 

_ [Dial Tone] _

 

_ Hey Sammy… I guess you don’t want to talk then… I’m sorry, little brother… _

 

_ I wish you’d call back. _

 

_ … _

 

_ [Dial Tone] _

 

_ Sam, I need to talk to you, I can’t go on like this. Please.  _

 

_ … _

 

_ [Dial Tone] _

 

_ Hey Sam… Please pick up the damn phone.  _

 

_ … _

 

_ [Dial Tone] _

 

_ Sam, it’s been six months… _

 

_ … _

 

_ [Dial Tone] _

 

_ A year, Sammy, please, it’s been a year. Sammy… I can’t do this… _

 

_ … _

 

_ [Dial Tone] _

 

_ Happy birthday Sammy. Hope it’s a good one, all normal and shit. _

 

_ Wish you’d talk to me, but I get it.  _

 

_ … _

 

_ [Dial Tone] _

 

_ Sammy, it’s been two years… If you can’t talk to me now… does that mean you’ll never talk to me again? I can’t deal with that, Sammy… _

 

_ … _

 

“Sam?” He sounded confused, and more than a little drunk. 

 

“Dean, I’m not coming back… At least, not for a long time. And don’t worry, I’ve been seeing other people, I have a therapist, and I am doing okay. I know you think you still have to take care of me, that’s Dad’s fault, I’m not your responsibility anymore. Please take care of yourself, I know how you get when you have a lot on your plate, but don’t let the hunt get to you. You don’t have to worry about me ruining anything for you, I won’t ask for anything, and you should try to be your own person, don’t let Dad get you killed. And Dean… Calling isn’t going to fix me, neither will texting me. I have to be alone if I’m going to get better. I love you…” His voice choked off. “And I miss you. I have to go.” 

 

_ [Dial Tone]  _

 

-x-

 

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to.” 

 

That’s really all it took, and Sam was grabbing a bag for the weekend. 

 

-x-

 

Jess is dead. Sam is hurting, Jess is dead, just like mom, it hurts more than most things ever had, he was breaking, he had finally found somebody who loved him… It was his fault, he shouldn’t have tried to be normal, shouldn’t have let anyone in, because now somebody was dead and he was back at square one, stuck in a car with the brother he was still in love with, after four years isolating himself from Dean… 

 

It hurt… 

 

Jess was dead, but Dean was there, and Sam was safe… safe from everything except himself. 

 

“Sammy… man, I’m so sorry.” 

 

Sam sighed and pat Dean’s arm before leaning against the window, staring out at the signs they passed while the scenery slowly turned to deserts instead of cute little towns.

 

-x-

 

Two years since they spoke on the phone, but Sam still feels like he’s sixteen, because Dean was staring at him and he looked like he had a lot to say and wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

 

“I need you to shut your mouth and listen carefully, Sam, because I see this look in your eye, like you’re going to flee as soon as you can. And I’m not having that. Not again. I refuse to lose you. Sammy…” His pause spoke volumes, because he was trying to choose his words carefully. Sam wasn’t used to that, it only happened when Dean was extremely serious or emotionally devastated. “You have to be a hundred percent with me right now, Sam. Do you still feel the same way about me that you did when you told me?” 

 

Sam couldn’t fight anymore. Not with Dean and not about this. “Dean, my feelings haven’t gone anywhere. I’m more in love with you than I ever was…” 

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

“Yes, Dean.” He looked at the floor. 

 

“Here’s the thing, and I wanted to explain this to you six years ago, but you were gone before I could. I did not feel the same way when we started this. I didn’t and I’m sorry. But I  _ did _ , at the same time. I didn’t know what I felt until you… Sam, you taught me what I was supposed to feel like when somebody really loved me. And… then I realized I already had… from the minute you entered my life… I had everything I ever wanted, everything I needed. You’re it for me, there was never a question, I never thought I would spend it with anyone but you. I realized, after all the fuss, all the questions, that yeah, I  _ had  _ been in love with you… It just took me too long to realize it. Maybe I should have started it differently when I tried to tell you before, or tied you to a chair… or the bed.”

 

“I like the bed one,” Sam said softly, scrubbing at his eyes so he wouldn’t cry. “I’m sorry for being a pain in the ass.” 

 

“You’re always going to be a pain in the ass, Sammy, but you’re  _ my  _ pain in the ass.”

 

Sam finally looked up, a smirk plastered across his face. “Maybe next time.” 


End file.
